


The Merry Medical Merry-Go-Round

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek The Gentle Seasons Series [40]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Illnesses, M/M, Men Taking Care Of Men, Pre-Relationship, Puppy Piles, Puppy pile, Triumvirate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Kirk makes a lousy patient.  Just ask McCoy.McCoy wears himself out taking care of his friends.Then McCoy gets sick.Then.... Well, you get the picture.It's just a bunch of men trying to take care of each other.  Bless their hearts, they try!





	The Merry Medical Merry-Go-Round

**Author's Note:**

> Begins where "Now It's Time To Heal Others" ends.
> 
> Esperata suggested more story about the cycle of illness that seems to have the Triumverant in its grip. As they struggle to offer mutual solicitude, they form almost a puppy pile of warmth and concern for each other.
> 
> Some of the words are from Esperata's comments. As always, thanks.

It was getting so bad that Jim Kirk was seeing penises and breasts in his sleep. Not attached to anyone in particular, just floating around out there, just out of reach, teasing him with their plumpness and virility and seeming availability.

Waking up didn't help matters any. Except to make him realize that reality didn't have all that much to recommend it over fantasy.

The penises and breasts were gone, to be replaced by an anxious Leonard McCoy watching him closely.

Kirk groaned. He'd lost out again.

Kirk was getting in quite a state because of a healthy hormonal drive and lack of relief from that persistent healthy hormonal drive. He hadn’t gone this long without sex since-- Well, he couldn’t remember when. Even the homely guy in maintenance was starting to look good to Kirk, and he began having daydreams about the supposed power of the guy’s pelvic thrust. Kirk had built a whole mythology about how he would lure the guy to his quarters on the pretext that the shower wasn’t working. Yeah, that was good. The shower. The shower was sexy whereas the stool was just the stool. There was something everyday, even vulgar, about the stool whereas the shower-- Oh, the shower! So many nice things can go on in the shower--

“What’s wrong now?” McCoy demanded. “Your eyes just went glassy. And what’s that? Are you… panting?! What the hell kind of symptoms have hit you now?! I thought you just had a simple cold!”

“I do,” Kirk sniffed. The stuffy head came back to him. The aches. The pains. The persistent doctor. 

Kirk sighed as his visions of the romantic lover disguised as a homely janitor dissolved into the inquisitive prodding from McCoy whose hands seemed to be everywhere on Kirk’s sore body. McCoy was worse than a swarm of blunt-nosed mosquitoes. Kirk just wanted to be left alone so he could return to his fevered dreams.

“Bones! Please! I hurt enough!”

“Sorry,” McCoy muttered. “Just trying to figure out what’s bothering you now.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that poking at my chest is way too low for my one problem and way too high for the other!”

“Why the hell not? It’s a chest cold.”

“It’s a head cold!”

“Chest!”

“Look! I’m the guy who’s sick! I oughta know where my damn cold is located! I dalk like I dotta clodespin on my dose!" he exaggerated. "Doesn’t that tell you something?!”

“Sorry, Jim, I was just trying to help.”

“I know. Look, I’m sorry. I’m just being a little ouchy because I don’t feel good.” What the hell?! He was the one being badgered! He was the one who was sick! Why in the hell was he apologizing?!

“I know you don’t feel well. And we’ll have you feeling better in no time. Here. Drink this orange juice. And then more water.”

“More liquid?!”

“Now, now, I know you feel irritable because you’re ill, but you mustn’t take it out on your caregiver. Fluids are good for your system to flush out all of those nasty, old contaminants.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child! I’m the captain of this ship! Or at least I used to be before I fell under this cold and your tender loving care,” Kirk muttered.

“Now, now, mustn’t be spiteful. Here. Drink your fluids like a good patient. I want to see the bottom of both glasses before I’m satisfied. Doctor’s orders. First the orange juice and then the water.”

“I’m turning into a damn orange tree! I’m sweaty citric acid! My breath smells like rotten fruit! And I have to urinate every fifteen minutes from all the damn water I’m drinking!”

“You need to stay hydrated.”

“Hydrated, yes! Swamped, no! If I ever had any water soluble minerals in my system, they would’ve been leached out days ago!”

“Your kidneys have to stay flushed out so that they can remain healthy.”

“Well, they’re the only thing that’s gonna be healthy! The rest of me is deteriorating fast from the doctoring I’m getting!”

“Jim. Rest. You’re wrought up. You still look tired,” McCoy clucked as he fussed with Kirk’s pillows and bedding.

“Hell, yes, I look tired! I’m running to the can every quarter hour like I’ve got an alarm clock stuck in my butt! I need rest, but there’s no way I could sleep through the night unless you put a diaper on me!”

McCoy looked interested at that new idea.

“Oh, no! Oh, no! That’s where I draw the line, McCoy! You’re not putting any infant wear on me!”

“And what infant wear would that be, Captain?” a new voice asked.

“Spock! Spock! You gotta save me! I saved you! McCoy is killing me with kindness!”

“Is he hallucinating, Doctor?” Spock calmly asked McCoy as if Kirk was not present.

“I am not hallucinating! And I'm right here, in case you can't see me!”

“He’s just being irritable, Spock. But it’s understandable with a chest cold.”

“Head cold, damn it! Head cold!”

“Head. Cold,” McCoy said distinctly to Spock.

“Hmm, they can be quite hard to shake,” Spock agreed in his most soothing voice.

“Don’t start using slang with me, Spock! It ain’t natural coming out of your mouth!” Kirk roared.

“I take it then that it will be several days before the captain can return to duty?” Spock asked McCoy.

“Several,” McCoy agreed.

“I’m a prisoner in my own ship! This place is an insane asylum!” Kirk yelled. Then he had a coughing fit that took his breath away.

“See?” McCoy asked. “I told you that it was in your chest.”

“I’m just gonna lie here and agree to everything from now on,” Kirk muttered. “Then maybe I’ll get out of here quicker.”

“It is actually the most logical course for you, Captain.”

“I’m not forgetting this betrayal, Mr. Spock,” Kirk vowed.

 

But it was just a ruse by Spock to lower McCoy’s vigilance. At his first opportunity, Spock sneaked Kirk out of sickbay and re-established him back on the Bridge. Kirk was elated. The Bridge crew was elated to have everyone together again. The Enterprise even seem to be flying through space smoother.

All was well until the door to the turbolift opened and McCoy stepped out. He looked around until his eyes fell on a guilty looking Kirk and an uneasy looking Spock standing just beyond Kirk.

McCoy did not say a word this time when he’d located his missing patient and that patient's enabler. McCoy just stood there and glared at both of them. His face was passive, but hurt and betrayal were reflected in his eyes.

He turned and silently headed for the turbolift.

“Bones--”

The door to the turbolift closed on him.

Kirk glanced at Spock and they traded guilty looks. They both felt properly chastised.

 

“Well, here we go again,” Kirk told Spock as they neared McCoy’s quarters. “I'd rather be anywhere but here right now, but we gotta apologize to McCoy. We really got to him this time. He was so hurt by our betrayal that he couldn’t even chew us out. And now he didn’t even show up for supper. Threw me off my own feed, and that's kinda hard to do.”

"I noticed that you were not eating your normal meal. Perhaps you did leave your sickbed too quickly, and you are experiencing a backset with your malady."

"Anything but that. I was being killed by kindness," Kirk muttered. "No, I was just worried about Bones at supper and the fact that he was missing his own meal."

“I brought him some food. He needs to eat.” Spock indicated the provisions which he carried.

“He’ll appreciate that. Maybe he’ll realize that our hearts are in the right place.”

They entered McCoy’s darkened quarters.

“Bones? You in here? Why is it so dark?”

“I’m back here. In bed.”

“Bones?” Kirk looked down at McCoy. “Why are you in bed so early?”

“I’m tired,” McCoy mumbled. “And I feel like I’m coming down with your cold.”

Kirk glanced at Spock. “Oh?”

“Yeah, it came on me after I found you both hale and hearty on the Bridge. I was okay up until then. Then I realized how exhausted I was. I don’t know how it sneaked upon me so fast.”

“I don’t think that it sneaked upon you, Bones. I think that you were running yourself ragged taking care of us and weren’t taking care of yourself. Then when you saw that we were both okay, you realized that you could think about something else. That's when you finally gave into your illness.”

“Well, whatever it is, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Kirk soothed as he sat down on the edge of McCoy’s bed. McCoy moved his legs to accommodate him. “But you need help now yourself. You need nourishment and nursing.”

“Not interested. I just want to lie here and die. I don’t need any help doing that. Or maybe I'll just sleep for a week, whichever comes first.”

“And you will get your rest, Bones, but you’ve got to let us help get you well.”

“That is correct, Doctor,” Spock said as he roosted on the other side of McCoy’s bed.

McCoy rolled his eyes and made room for Spock, also. He began to feel crowded with one of them on each side of him, but his legs were nice and warm. “Not necessary. I don’t need any guardian angels hovering over me, smothering me--”

“Now, Bones. You took such good care of us. You surely can’t deny us the opportunity to do the same for you.”

Spock held up the sack. “I have brought hot vegetable soup and chewy bread for you. And vanilla milk pudding with diced peaches. All healthy. All bland. All guaranteed to make you feel better.”

"And we're gonna make certain that you eat every bite," Kirk vowed softly, but firmly.

With watery eyes McCoy looked at Spock and Kirk steadily. “You two ain’t goin’ away any time soon, are you?”

Spock beamed. “No, Doctor. Not until you are much better.”

"That's what I figured," McCoy said with a sigh as he accepted his fate. Sometimes, bread cast upon the waters can come back to haunt a person, he realized. He was going to be the victim now of his friends' good intentions.

Hell, it was probably even karmic justice. He should've seen it coming.

“Scoot down now,” Kirk instructed. “Spock will feed you. And I’ll get some water for you. Lots of it,” Kirk muttered. He seemed awfully eager to fulfill that mission.

McCoy didn’t protest because it felt so good to be catered to for a change. It was nice to have his friends fussing over him. It was nice having Spock hovering over him. He'd missed being close to Spock, and he had a notion that Spock liked being close to him, also.

 

And it did feel good to McCoy for the first few days. Spock brought him anything he wanted and wouldn’t allow him to strain himself. The only exercise he did manage to get was his frequent trips to the bathroom. Kirk kept plying water on McCoy until he swore that he was awash with fluid. But McCoy’s kidneys were in fine shape. Kirk gleefully saw to that project with endless supplies of water. And orange juice.

And not having to think about the many responsibilities that would’ve been piled on him if he was working in sickbay was a blessing, too. For awhile. Then McCoy actually began to miss sickbay. And responsibility. And sick people. Sick people besides himself, that is.

“Honest, Jim, I’m feeling fine now. I think that it’s high time I was getting back to work.”

“We don’t want you going back too soon, do we, Spock?”

“Of course not, Captain. It would be remiss of us to allow Dr. McCoy to return too quickly to his duties.”

“My opinion exactly.” Kirk jumped to his feet. “Speaking of duties, Mr. Spock and I must be getting back to ours and let you rest more.” He paused at the door. “Coming, Mr. Spock?”

“Oh. Certainly. So sorry, Captain.” Spock pulled himself to his feet with great effort.

Kirk frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you ill? You have been spending a great deal of your off-duty hours here nursing McCoy. Have you come down with something now again yourself?”

Spock put his hand to his head. “I am feeling rather unwell, Captain.”

McCoy jumped out of his bed. “Hell, yes, he’s sick! A child can see that he’s weak as a kitten.” He grabbed Spock’s arm. “Here, Spock. Lie down in my bed.”

“Bones! Really! Your bed?!”

“Stop being such a prude, Kirk! I’ve got a sick man here! Why drag him around all over this ship when he can stay here? I can see to him easier here, too.”

As he watched McCoy tucking his own bedding around Spock, Kirk wondered how long it would take Spock to realize just whose bed he was in. Right now, though, it really didn’t seem to matter to either Spock or McCoy. And Kirk sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything more about it. After all, he’d already been called a prude once. He didn’t want that designation again. It might sully his reputation as a Casanova.

And maybe, just maybe, Spock wouldn’t mind finding himself in McCoy’s bed. Maybe he’d been missing the intimate interactions that he’d experienced when McCoy had nursed him before. Maybe Spock would actually enjoy being ill this time.

Kirk knew one thing for certain, though. He certainly hoped that the merry-go-round of illnesses was now running its course. He didn’t want to take another turn and he was the next one scheduled to be sick if the pattern continued.

Kirk decided to break the pattern. Or at least get off the merry-go-round himself.

“If you need anything, Bones, call Chapel. She can bring you some food or medicine or whatever you need. I'll be back after shift.” He stopped at the door to look back and expected some protest from McCoy.

“Thanks, Jim. We’ll be okay for awhile.” He turned back to his patient.

McCoy was happy. He had someone to nurse.

Spock was happy. He had the undivided attention of his dear doctor.

Kirk was happy. He was headed for the Bridge and elated to be on his unimpeded way.

Sometimes things do work out to everybody’s satisfaction.

Kirk coughed to clear his throat. Hmm, a little raspy there. He'd gargle with salt water when he got the chance. He sure as hell didn't want McCoy to think he was ailing again. If he came down with a head cold again, Spock would probably feel guilty about taking him out of sickbay too quickly. Then Kirk would have TWO well-meaning angels of mercy taking care of him, and he figured he wouldn't be strong enough to survive both of them if they decided to doctor him for a simple head cold.

Then Jim Kirk coughed. Twice. And his chest hurt a little.

Oh, hell! He was in for it now!

He was going to hate the smirk on McCoy's face every time he coughed.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
